


A Well-Thought Solution

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the LOTR kink meme. Aragorn never seems to sleep in the book, and upon reaching Rivendell, he is convinced into going to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Well-Thought Solution

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/35162) by Anonymous. 



Aragorn was tired, but that was not new to him. All through the meal he had had to concentrate to keep his head from drooping where he sat, attempting to keep his gaze upon sweet Arwen beside him, offering her smiles when he could and making all the jokes he could think of.

Oh, how he loved to see her smile.

But even with her beside him, lighting up the oncoming dark with her starlight, sleep was stubborn, and the wish to close his eyes was becoming ever-stronger.

It was later, when Aragorn sat alone, carefully pouring over the map before him and blinking rapidly as if that would stave off the need to close them completely, that a gentle hand touched upon his shoulder. He looked up, somewhat startled, but the familiar, kindly face affected him to relax again.

"Elrond." He said quietly, and he bowed his head in the regular show of respect.

"My people have gone to terrible trouble, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to put together a pleasant bedroom with comfortable sheets and a thick mattress, a warmness permeating the room, and a little fruit at the bedside in order to wake up its inhabitant." Aragorn gave a rueful, guilty smile, reluctantly looking away from the map to meet Elrond’s gaze.

For all the Elf’s gentle features, he seemed a mixture of amused and stern now, and he watched Aragorn with an intense and obvious care. “And yet its inhabitant does not seem to have appeared, as yet. Pray tell, Aragorn, could you shed some light on the subject?”

"I have work to do." Aragorn said, and even as he spoke he was somewhat embarrassed to hear the deep tiredness that shook his own tones. 

"Work can be done after sleep has been taken." Elrond pointed out, and he slipped into the seat beside Aragorn. "Come, now. I have noticed the fatigue you carry upon your back: you are exhausted. What sleep have you had upon leaving the small town of Bree? Little, I should guess, for these hobbits are unused to keeping their own watch."

Aragorn gave a reluctant nod, and Elrond hummed. Unsurprised though he was by the answer, it was obvious he would have preferred the alternative. “What worth will you be with sleep clinging to you, sapping your strength and your speed? Sleep,  _Estel_.”

"I’ve tried." Aragorn admitted, and he rubbed hard at his own right eye with the heel of his hand, trying to push away the slight ache there. "But I tossed and I turned, unable to drift from waking."

"Ought I find an elder to bore you to sleep with tales you’ve heard a dozen times? I can take the role myself, should you wish." Aragorn laughed despite himself, and Elrond’s smile was gentle as he said, quietly, "Do you feel unsafe within my halls?"

"Elrond-"

"I will take no insult if that is the case. You have been away from Rivendell for a time now, and times are dark." Aragorn let out a quiet sigh, but he could make no argument: he had thought of many things whilst in bed that night, and had wished to remain awake, in order to be able to run to arms if anything should happen. It was ridiculous, for Rivendell was well safe and protected, and yet…

"I try and turn my mind to other things, but other things seem to evade my clutch." He said finally, after a long pause. 

"Very well. Young Legolas is troubled also, for the sake of his worries." Elrond said after a pause, and Aragorn looked up, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side and seeming somewhat perplexed. "He paces back and forth, and though Lindir has spoken to him for a fair while, attempting to calm him, he sleeps not."

"He is away from home. Rarely is he forced to be so." Aragorn pointed out, and though Legolas was immeasurably older than him, he could not help but think of him as young -  a fault of his own exhausted thoughts, perhaps.

"This is true. My suggestion," Elrond said. "Was that the two of you share a room, beds twinned, in order that if something  _were_  to happen - though it will not, I well understand that you cannot control your worries, and nor he his own - the both of you could easily wake each other, and fight together, should the need arise.”

Aragorn stared at the Elf, and Elrond’s smile was a knowing one, as it often was. “Very- very well.” He said, and Elrond’s small quirk of lips became a beam of teeth. 

"Very well indeed. Come."

—-

Legolas was indeed pacing when Aragorn arrived, and Aragorn watched him with a quiet care. “You too are struck from sleep, then?” He asked, slowly unbuttoning his tunic and taking the bed to the right, for Legolas seemed to have selected the one to the left.

"It is awful." Legolas said quietly, and he dropped to sit on the edge of his bed. He wore only a loose sleep-shirt, his legs and arms as hairless as his face, and the arch of his feet graceful even as their toes absently traced the floor beneath them. "I toss, I turn, and yet no sleep comes to me."

"The same." Aragorn said, and he slipped beneath the covers, watching as Legolas did the same. Four feet or so separated them, and Aragorn noted that Legolas, like him, had left a dagger at his bedside and his other weapons ready at the foot of his bed. "Are you not going to tie back your hair?"

Legolas’ eyes had closed, but now they opened, and he regarded the man before him quizzically. “Why?” Aragorn carefully tied his own back with a black piece of string - not the sweet silken ribbons he had available but merely string, for those were for when he was with Arwen, and not for when he slept.

"Will it not tangle?"

"My hair does not tangle." Legolas said, and Aragorn could believe him - when he blew out the candle he could make Legolas’ silver hair out easily in the dim light. For a few moments, they lay each in their own beds, breathing quiet. "Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we will fare well?"

"We will set out within the week."

"That is no answer." 

"It is not." Another pause, and then Aragorn said, "We will fare well, or we will die doing so."

"Kin of mine have died in battle. It is honourable."

"Better that we do not die at all." Aragorn returned, and Legolas’ reply was a soft hum. Oddly enough, he did indeed feel safer here, with the Elf not so far away - he had true faith in Legolas’ abilities with bow, knife or sword, and he knew he could trust the prince to assist him as needs fell. 

His eyelids drooped finally, and he felt himself begin to drift a little, detached from his living body and slowly edging towards the world of dreams.

"Aragorn?" came Legolas’ sweet voice again, pure and with a sort of charm even in the dark when Aragorn was all but unconscious. 

"Mmm?" Aragorn’s response could not be verbal, for his tongue was too tired to make out words.

"I thank you." Aragorn smiled a little, and with effort, he forced his traitorous tongue to move.

"My thanks to you also." Aragorn slept. In the twin bed beside him, so too did Legolas.


End file.
